Self Serve
by Abydosorphan
Summary: Sam overhears Jack "taking care of things", and it's a shockingly deep turn-on for her. She needs a release to deal.
Samantha Carter lay in bed, her right arm pillowed beneath her head as she stared at the ceiling. She was never going to be able to sleep tonight. The events of the past few weeks had completely turned her life upside down.

Her engagement had ended, her father had died, and SG-1 had all but disbanded. This week away was supposed to be a way to let SG-1 wind down and relax after the events of the last year. She had been prepared for things to change. She had been prepared for things to feel odd and weird at times. She had even been prepared to go fishing.

She had assumed the flirting would step up a notch. She had resigned herself to calling the general 'Jack' at least once during the trip. And she had. She had called him Jack when he'd splashed her with water while they were washing the dinner dishes.

His reaction had been immediate.

His eyes had locked with hers, turning dark and dangerous. His mouth curved up at the corners into a smile that made her stomach flip and her pulse quicken.

Daniel had coughed lightly, breaking the moment before he and Teal'c moved into the living room. Jack had moved, too, stepping closer to her, making her feel almost rooted against the counter behind her.

His eyes had searched her face, as if silently requesting permission before he'd leaned in. His lips had been soft and gentle against her own. His hand smooth as he'd cupped her cheek.

The kiss had been sweet. Nothing too passionate, but enough to leave her lips tingling in anticipation of what was to come.

Nothing more had come of it, though. He'd taken her hand and lead her into the living room where they'd joined the guys for an evening of poker. When everyone had decided it was time to call it a night, Sam had found the butterflies in her stomach kicking things up a notch.

When she'd stepped out of the bathroom, toothbrush and towel in hand, Jack had been there waiting for her and she'd felt her heart jump into her throat. The second kiss had been deeper, more passionate, more demanding and had left her breathless when it was over. They'd said goodnight, then, each of them seemingly hesitant to rush the steps.

Which left her lying in bed, in a cabin where everything smelt like him and she could still taste him on her lips. She was never going to get to sleep like this.

Tossing the blankets aside, she grabbed her robe. Maybe there was a chance Jack would still be up, a chance they could at least talk so she wouldn't feel caught in such a state of flux.

Moving out of her room and into the hallway, she paused outside of his door, wondering if she should even bother as it was more likely she'd disturb him by knocking. Wanting to play it safe, she leaned in, her ear to the door, before raising her hand.

She heard sounds of movement and figured he was awake. Her hand moved to knock and that was when she froze. It was difficult to hear through the door, and she could tell he was trying to muffle any sounds, but his breathing was labored and it had very obviously been a low moan that she had overheard.

Her mouth went dry as she continued to listen, and she found herself very tempted to open the door and walk inside. But she was once again rooted to her spot - unable to move forward, but also unable to turn away.

She studied his breathing, listening to the rhythmic quality to it. The way the moans and groans that would escape seemed to take him by surprise. She couldn't stop the mental images that assaulted her. The thought of him lying, kneeling, standing just beyond the door. The image of his strong, firm, yet gentle hand holding himself, tugging and releasing as he strode toward his climax.

A particularly loud moan escaped from him and Sam gasped as a shocking tingle made its way down her spine to settle between her legs. Clasping a hand over her mouth she hoped and prayed that he hadn't heard her, that he was too far gone for his extraordinary senses to pick up on her presence, or at the very least, too far gone to care.

She wasn't naive enough to believe a man like Jack O'Neill was above jerking off in his own bedroom, but as many different images as had passed through her mind about him over the years - this wasn't one of them. And she'd never considered herself to be much of a voyeur, but standing on the outside of his bedroom door, listening to his panting and imagining the image on the other side was enough to have her clasping her legs together and wishing she'd worn panties under her boxers.

Jack's breathing continued to increase before seeming to stop altogether, a strangled moan emanated from him before she _thought_ she heard her name.

She was a puddle on the floor.

The tension she was feeling was most definitely not one-sided.

Hearing the creak of his mattress spurred her into action. Chances were he'd either been sitting or lying down. The last thing she needed was to get caught eavesdropping outside his door when he walked out to go into the bathroom to clean up. She practically sprinted down the hall to her own bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her and leaning against it, willing her heart rate to slow to a more normal pace.

Her plan from earlier had accomplished absolutely nothing. The way things stood she was even less likely to get any sleep now. Or for the next few days.

She licked her lips, willing saliva to return to her mouth and stopped as a flutter of arousal whispered across her stomach. She swore she could still taste his kiss. After what she'd just overheard, she wished she could taste more.

For a brief moment she regretted leaving her vibrator in Colorado, though with the other occupants of the cabin she finally decided that had been the best course of action. However, it definitely had not ruled out the plan currently forming in her mind.

In the interest of equality - and certainly having _nothing_ to do with the pounding of her pulse through her clit - it was only fair that she give her fantasy the same due treatment Jack had given his.

Pushing off the door she walked over to the bed, shedding her robe on her way. She crawled under the covers, slipping her boxers off as she went. The sheets were flannel, soft and smooth against her skin. She slid to the center of the queen-sized bed, propping the pillows into a comfortable position before closing her eyes and steadying her breath.

She was actually going to do this. She felt insane. Insane for even thinking about masturbating with Jack just down the hall, the house full of her friends. And insane with a desire she knew wouldn't go away by any other means... well, _almost_ any other means.

Sam sunk into the bed, letting her body become a dead weight. Imagining Jack's body above her. She bent her knees, drawing her legs up till her heals were even with her hips.

Her hands smoothed out by her sides, her palms running over the fabric beneath her, learning its texture, letting the smooth fuzz heighten her senses. Sinking further into the pillows she inhaled deeply, a small shiver gliding through her as she was surrounded by Jack's scent.

Slowly, her hands moved to her knees, her short nails blazing a trail from there, down the inside of her thighs and over to her stomach when they reached the juncture of her legs. They didn't stop there, though, moving across her stomach and up to her breasts.

Sam's skin broke out in goosebumps and she unsuccessfully attempted to swallow the moan that rose in her throat. The way she was responding to her own touch, she knew there was no hope for this to be anything but fast and powerful.

Keeping her left hand on her breast, her right hand journeyed south once more. She trailed a path over her skin, venturing through the patch of curls before running over the slick skin beyond. Her back arched into her touch as her fingers caressed her labia, the smooth skin easily moving with the motion of her fingers.

Her fingers were confident, no hesitation behind her movements. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, let it slowly slip between them, before her gasp forced its early release.

The tip of her middle finger circled her clit, her short, manicured nail catching the hood ever so gently which caused her to jump a bit on the mattress. From there she moved her fingers lower, circling her center and lubricating her fingers with the moisture they encountered before she resumed her motions. After years of virtual celibacy she'd become a master at this, she knew her body and exactly what she wanted... exactly what she needed.

She hissed and her jaw snapped shut as her muscles tightened. Her breathing became increasingly erratic and she knew a flush was spreading across her chest and would soon reach her face; even with all the time she spent outdoors her skin was too pale for the color not to show. Her back arched again as a ripple ran through the muscles of her stomach, as her hips rotated and shifted against her hand.

A strangled cry built in her throat and she tried to swallow it as her thighs began to tremble and she could feel her orgasm building. Quick images of Jack's head between her legs, his lips and tongue doing the job her fingers currently had, flew through her mind before two fingers entered her and massaged the sensitive tissue of her inner walls. Her thumb kept up the meticulous rhythm against her clit.

Her head tossed to the side, and the hinted scent of Jack on her pillow case was the final assault her senses could withstand before she crested and saw the brief flashes of white block out her vision.

Breathing in deeply through her nose and out her mouth Sam tried to slow her heart rate. Her legs bonelessly slid to the foot of the bed, her muscles protesting as they went. It had been a while since she'd indulged herself; a while since she'd allowed her fantasies of the man in the next room to completely consume her.

The knock on her bedroom door startled her, helping to kick her heart up into her throat. She moved out of the bed and slipped on her boxers before walking to the door.

A second knock sounded as she reached the door, followed by a soft, "Carter? Sam?"

Sam hoped that the mussed, dazed look to her would be brushed off to her having been asleep, but she wasn't sure that his senses wouldn't be sharp enough to pick up on things.

"Something wrong, sir?" She opened the door slowly, not sure she wanted to give him the full purview of the room beyond, and calling him Jack right now might put a crack in her delicate resolve.

"I thought I'd heard something, Carter. Just wanted to check on you." He looked over her, glancing up and down and she felt the heat rush to her face. She was sure that he somehow knew what she'd been up to.

"I'm fine, sir." She swallowed, hoping her voice sounded more sleepy and less breathless. "I appreciate you checking in and all, but… I'm fine, really. Besides, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

The double entendre wasn't lost on her and she closed her eyes hoping that the nervous laughter would die before it ever reached her lips.

"Of that I have no doubt, Carter." Something about his voice got to her, caused her stomach to flip again and her eyes to avoid direct contact with his. "Have a good night, Sam."

"Good night again, sir." When she closed the door Sam felt the pleasant flow of arousal begin to strike up again, calmer this time, more subtle. She'd be able to sleep, but her dreams would definitely be most interesting.


End file.
